Nice and Good
by Luna-Kitsune-Blu
Summary: It's needless to say that Meryl's the overprotectivesister type. And a sister can only take so much, espeically from someone as...perverted as one Nicholas D. Wolfwood.


A/n: Okay, this fic officially took FOREVER. I can remember having this concept in the middle of the bloody school year! Gah, it just refused to be finished till now.

Anyway, this fic basically blossomed out of a realization I had a long while ago, which is Meryl doesn't get much love. Sure, she gets the fics where she ends up with Vash and those are fine and dandy and, yay here, are slowly growing in numbers. But what I don't find enough of is Meryl just being Meryl. Meryl being the insurance agent. Meryl being the couch potato after work. Meryl being the best friend. That last one is one I wanted to see the most and there are a few fics out there that portray that WONDERFULLY. But I decided that if I liked the concept so much, I should just write something like that! So, there yah go, this is a fic about Meryl being Millie's friend.

.-.-.-.-.-.

The agreement was thought of at the time as simple; girls in one room, boys in another. For long as anyone could remember, this was how it was done and it was effective.

So, of course, that's the method she and her group had used as well.

It was just easier that way.

It was just _safer _that way.

But, despite the boundaries society and personal preferences had set for their little quartet, two individuals seemed hell bent on crossing the line. She, how ever, was not in any way amused. In fact, she was _this_ close on giving one of the said individuals a rather large piece of her mind.

Oh no, Meryl Stryfe was not to be fooled.

Nice is different then good, after all.

Millie had come back to the hotel room they were sharing a little tipsier than she had left it. Reason behind this of course being a curtain priest whom she would keep anonymous in her mind for his own physical safety.

She was just so worried about Millie, being around that _pervert_ who dared to call himself a man of God. She was her best friend, after all. Sure, Millie could take care of herself, but Wolfwood was different variable all together.

Millie trusted him, and trust had always been Big Girl's downfall.

Sighing to herself, Meryl shook the thoughts from her head and put down the shirt she had been refolding to fit into her overflowing suitcase.

"Millie?" she asked, turning around to face her friend who had just recently fallen upon her own twin sized bed. The larger woman rolled over from her sprawled out position of lying on her chest to her side, the huge grin stretched over her face once again visible to her much shorter partner.

Millie let out a bubbly giggle before answering, "What is it, Sempai?"

Instantly, Meryl hesitated, mind restlessly reminding her exactly how much she was about to rock the boat.

She sucked in a breath. It was for the best.

Sink or swim, baby.

Picking the shirt up again, she folded in a sleeve, "I don't like you hanging around Wolfwood all the time."

There was a pause, in which Millie's head had tilted slightly to the left, indicating she was confused.

"That's silly," Big girl said suddenly, propping herself up with an elbow. "We're just friends. Like…" the other woman paused to play with the simple hem of the comforter beneath her. "Like with you and Mr. Vash."

"That's different," Meryl replied quickly. "I don't spend all my free time hanging out in _bars_ with Vash. I don't even go anywhere alone with him! Besides, he's not my friend, he's my _job_."

"That's not very nice."

"It's beside the point!" the black haired girl snapped just as quickly as she had before.

Another sleeve went in.

"He's dangerous and could easily take advantage of you, so I don't want you to be around him alone anymore."

Millie sat straight up as the shirt was pushed into the pink suitcase. "That's stupid! Mr. Wolfwood would never do anything to hurt me!" Big girl whipped around and crossed her arms in a huff before adding, "He's not that kind of person," back to her partner over her shoulder.

Meryl chuckled to herself coldly.

"He is too," the shirt was pushed in further, "that 'kind of person'."

"Mr. Wolfwood wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"I highly beg to differ."

A fist came down onto the covered mattress. "He's fun to be around."

Another shirt was picked up in reply. "He's twisted."

A torso whipped around. "He's caring!"

The shirt's arms were bent and its cloth folded at the middle. "He's drunk."

"He cares about _me_!"

Meryl smashed the shirt carelessly in with the rest and slammed the lid shut. "Millie, all that man cares about is your ass! He's just looking for an easy _lay_!"

A turned back was the short haired woman's only reply, the sound of the suitcase lid being thrown down echoing eerily around the room. Signing, she continued.

"Millie, I'm your best friend, and I'm only looking out for your well being." The insurance agent gingerly clasped the suitcase, "and your well being is at stake around that…_man_."

"You're," a tear was sniffed back into hiding, "wrong."

"I wish I was," Meryl said in a small voice. Hesitantly, she stood and moved over to sit on the bed next to her friend. "I've been there, Mil'. I know what its like to be told this."

"No," sniff, "you haven't."

"Millie…" Meryl reached out to comfort her friend but her hand was knocked away. Despite herself, she felt her temper beginning to boil again at this. "Why won't you listen to me?" the shorter woman demanded. "Millie, can't you see I'm worried about you?" She let out a frustrated groan at being ignored. "What could you possibly see in such a gritty, vulgar…tasteless…Bastar-!"

Her rebuttal was interrupted as a hand came across her cheek, the owner behind it looking just as surprised as Meryl did upon it coming in contact with her face. Before the black haired woman could respond, however, her taller friend had already bolted from the bed and out the hotel door, a stream of tears barely visible in the blur of her movement. Meryl was only seconds behind. Although, when she reached the door, which happened to open outwards, she found it was being blocked. A few moments later when audible sobs could be heard through the imitation wood, she realized the thing blocking the door was indeed her weeping friend.

"Millie," she coaxed, rattling the door as she did so. "Please, let's just talk about this."

Her only reply was muffled wails.

"Fine," she huffed, "if you won't let me out, I'll just make you let me out!" She then proceeded to roll up her uniform's sleeves and then, after a deep breath, began pushing as hard as she could against the door. After about five, ten minutes of fighting with the slab of fake wood, Meryl let out a sigh and collapsed against her side of it, officially pooped.

Suddenly, she heard a rather familiar voice loft between her and the door. Curious, she pressed her ear to the door to hear what was going on clearer.

"…doin' okay there, Big Girl?" she heard a recognizable priest's grainy voice ask. There was much louder sniffling, which she could physically feel against the barrier from Millie, who was no doubt sagging on the floor against it as she was.

"M-me and S-S-Sempai ha-had a fah-fight," came the brunette's explanation.

"You're kiddin' me," replied the preacher. Unknown to the small insurance agent, her partner shook her head. "You and the Short Girl fightin'? Now that's just not right. What could you two possibly fight 'bout, anyways?"

"I-it wah-was you," was the sniffled response.

"Whaddabout me?" asked Wolfwood, laughing humorlessly near the end. Again, although Meryl had no way of knowing, Millie shook her head, indicating she couldn't say. "C'mon, Big Girl," on the other side of the door, the black haired preacher bent down and cupped Millie's face in his rough hand. "I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

"S-she said…She sah-said…"

"Yeah?"

"S-she sah-said…you oh-only wanted mah-me for my…" Millie's voice lowered to a whisper for the last of the sentence, ashamed of what she was about to say. "My ass."

For a moment Wolfwood just stared at her, Millie too embarrassed to look back at him, and then, when the moment had passed, he began to laugh hysterically. Both the Big Girl and the woman on the other side of the door did a double take.

"Meryl really said that?" Wolfwood asked once his mirth was under control. Millie, on her side, nodded slowly. "What a card, that girl," the priest commented, mainly to himself. He then looked thoughtfully into the brunette's face and after a moment of taking in the sniffling beauty before him, opened his arms to her for a hug. "C'mere," he coaxed. Millie instantly fell into his arms, wrapping her own around his middle with a wet whimper. "Shh, don't cry," he said gently, running a hand comfortingly through her brown hair. "It's all right. Everything's all right."

On the other side of the door, Meryl's jaw had dropped so far it had become unhinged. Never had she heard the priest act so caring. Maybe she owed both him and Millie an apology…

"There now," the man in black said finally on the other side of the divide. "Now smile," he suggested, flashing a grin. "You're so much prettier with one." Millie blushed a soft pink before complying and showing the man she still clung to a tear stained smile. "See?" he asked, cupping her face again. "You're beautiful." The priest then helped the insurance girl to her feet and directed her away from the door. Meryl, on the other side, instantly shifted her weight so she wouldn't tumble out once Millie was no longer barricading the door.

"There's a bathroom down the hall," Wolfwood said, his voice much fainter to Meryl now that he was no longer squatted next to the door. "You should probably wash up a little." Millie nodded mutely, still blushing lightly, and complied. She hadn't taken more than two steps before the priest called out to her once more. "Oh, and Millie," he said, causing her to pause and turn slightly. His smile shifted to his usual lop-sided grin. "You really do have a great ass."

While Millie gave a giggle on one side of the door, her partner's face scrunched into a scowl. And to believe she thought he might have actually meant all of that. He really was just some pervert.

Nice is different than good, after all

After the insurance girl he had been talking to had taken her leave down the hallway, Nick regarded the door Millie had been slouched against respectfully before calling out to it, "Meryl, if you're still listening, mind if we have a chat?"

This time Meryl did topple out from her room.

"There you are," the priest addressed her cheerfully, bending down to help her up. The agent swatted him away. "Fine," he replied with a shrug and stood just as she pulled herself to her own feet.

"Well," Meryl asked, dusting her uniform off. "What did you want to talk about?" As if she didn't already know.

"What you told Millie really upset her," he stated bluntly.

"I only told her the truth," the woman replied as she crossed her arms.

Wolfwood nodded thoughtfully. "So, I'm guessing I should steer clear or else reside myself to a life filled with pain?" he asked, pointing to himself.

"If you know what's good for you," she said back shortly, her words more of a threat then in agreement.

This was met with a sigh. "Meryl," the preacher's hands fell into the pockets of his ebony trousers, "you don't like me much, do you?"

This comment caught the insurance girl off guard. She had expected him to make up excuses or try to act the clown, not bluntly ask her opinion of him. "Not particularly, no," she finally replied.

"You hate my _guts_," Wolfwood continued, this time almost ruefully. Now that Meryl couldn't think of a retort to. She didn't have much time to either for almost right after finishing his sentence, the priest took a step towards her and placed a weathered hand on her small shoulder. "You're a good friend," he said politely. "Millie is lucky she has someone like you to look after her." With that, the man turned and headed down the hall to where he and Vash were sharing a room for the night, the latter of which no doubt already out cold on his own bed.

Meryl looked after him, stunned.

"See you bright and early," the black haired man called to her with a backwards wave. Then he disappeared into his own hotel room, leaving the insurance girl to stand alone in the hallway.

"Nice is different than good," Meryl thought aloud. "But which is he?"

"Can't he be both?" a voice asked from behind her.

Meryl turned to find her friend standing next to the door of the room they had previously been fighting in. Millie's face had obviously just been washed, her cheeks red and a few strands of hair clung wet to her forehead and jaw line. She gave the smaller woman a knowing smile, her eyes falling closed. "Hmm?" the taller of the two questioned.

"Millie…" Short girl's retort drifted off near the end. Really she didn't know what to say. That stupid preacher had left her at a loss for words. Giving her black-haired head a shake, she heaved a sigh and moved to give her partner a shove. "Get to bed," Meryl ordered, a laugh in her voice. "It's late." Millie instantly obliged and the two of them quickly disappeared back into their room, fight seemingly forgotten.

Nice is different than good.

Meryl decided she'd just have to watch that man a little longer to find out which he was, and whether he'd be permitted to live.


End file.
